


Philosophy

by MirriamQWebster



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Eavesdropping, Gen, Happens Before Ghost Story, It's Not Stalking, Just Coincidence, Pointless Maundering, Unexpected Sightings, light and fluffy, that awkward moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirriamQWebster/pseuds/MirriamQWebster
Summary: One bruiser with unexpected depths is confronted with the realization that he has more in common with the annoyance he runs into in Chicago than he had previously imagined.





	Philosophy

I don’t get a lot of time off, so I like to enjoy it when I have some. Which is why I was searching the shelves in the philosophy section at the TexChange. TexChange was a text-book buy/sell emporium catering to the many, many students in Chicago. The front area was set up like a cross between a novelty shop and a library, but behind the main counter it was more like a warehouse. Row upon row of enormous, heavy-duty steel shelving held texts for every academic subject offered at any college or university in town. The selection stretched, quite literally, from A to Z, and there were plenty of subjects that it would never occur to the average Chicagoan to think about, let alone study in-depth. 

Classes had been running for a couple of months now, so it was quiet in the shop and I was relaxed as I browsed the texts. I paused thoughtfully in front of one shelf. I’d already read this one, already owned a copy, but this was a different translation. Should I spring for it? My fingers caressed the spines of the books and after another moment I decided to indulge myself. 

Maybe this author’s word choice would offer new insights. The corners of my mouth tipped up a little in pleasant anticipation. Relaxed as I was, however, my job is the sort that can get a guy very dead if he doesn’t pay careful attention to his surroundings. That’s why I was listening when I heard the bell on the door chime and the perky voice of the young man at the counter greeting the entering patron. When I heard the voice that replied, however, my quiet cheerfulness drained away. 

“Hi, yeah, I was hoping you could help me.”

Growling silently, I edged carefully to the end of the aisle and peered out at the front desk. Just as I suspected. The man was over six feet of trouble, and he was none-too-bright to boot. My frown deepened at that. What on Earth was this thug doing here?

“What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, there was a little mishap,” Trouble said sheepishly, raking one massive paw back through his hair as the other deposited a soggy lump on the counter. A second look suggested that it might be the remains of a book, if that book had been used to filter the grounds out of freshly brewed coffee, or maybe left to molder in someone’s bathtub for a month.

“That’s some mishap,” Counter-Guy said. “I hope you weren’t expecting to sell that one back to us. I can’t take it.” His tone was guardedly polite, but there was a wary resolve in it. You could tell that the poor kid was hoping this wasn’t going to be a troublesome customer, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

“No, no, I don’t want to sell it. I want to replace it. Do you have any copies in stock?”

“Just a second,” Counter-Guy’s voice was decidedly more cheerful as he turned to the computer. “I’ll just check our inventory.” Roughly twice as much clicking as usual and the faint sounds of frustration whispered back to me and I bit my lip a little to keep from laughing. “Well, it looks like you’re in luck. There are three used copies and a couple of new ones on the shelves. I can go get one for you, if you like?” The young man looked up and waited.

“Well, what edition are they, can you tell?”

“Edition?”

“Yeah, see the first edition was written by both brothers, but the second one was just revamped by one of them after the other one died. I really want the first edition. Do you have any copies of that?”

“Just a moment.” Counter-Guy turned back to the computer and typed in a couple of commands. He clicked twice. He swore a little and then apologized but, “This darn computer! It was fine an hour ago. It’s like some kind of prima donna, I swear!” 

Trouble smiled at that, but I could tell he felt a little guilty. It was there in the pinched skin around his eyes. “I know what you mean,” he said. “I never have any luck with them myself.”

“It’s like they know just when to quit, you know?” Counter-Guy continued. After a few minutes he made a pleased sound. “Well, you’re in luck. We do have two copies of the first edition. They’re both brand new, still in the original shrink-wrap and everything. Would you like me to bring one to you?”

“Please!” Trouble’s guilty look faded and was replaced by a faint air of excitement. “Wait,” he called as Counter-Guy turned away. “How much is it?”

“One hundred and three dollars. You still want it?”

“Yeah,” Trouble winced. “I want it. You’d think it would have gone down more when the new edition came out.”

“Yeah, but it is a new copy.”

“True. Thanks.”

“Sure thing!” Counter-Guy beamed briefly and scurried off into the stacks. 

I kept watching Trouble. The second the kid was out of sight he started going through his pockets. He pulled loose change and crumpled bills out of two coat pockets and the front left pocket of his jeans. Then he looked at the total, did some quick math, and sighed. “So much for Burger King this month,” he muttered grumpily and pulled out his wallet, proceeding to empty it onto the counter as well. 

Counter-Guy returned, book in hand, a few minutes later. I was surprised to see that, rather than something like The Faerie Queen as I had assumed, it was a thick physics text. Not one of the basic introductory kind, either, going by the title. That was serious science. The check-out process went fairly smoothly, considering who was involved. There was even a little money left over, which made Trouble happy, going by his face. “Do you want me to dispose of this for you?” The clerk indicated the mess of paper and cardboard that had been the first copy. 

“No, I’ll use it to start fires or something at home. Thanks though.”

“Sure. Do you want a bag for it?”

“Oh, could I have one, please?

“Absolutely,” Counter-Guy said and handed him a flimsy bit of plastic sack. 

“Thanks.” I grunted in surprise. I hadn’t known that Trouble actually possessed manners. He seemed so dimwitted and over-aggressive most of the time. The rest of the time, of course, over-aggressive was entirely justified. This was Chicago. Weird shit happened here, and occasionally very nasty things would try to eat your face. And the rest of you. Nasty things tend not to be picky about that. 

“Welcome. Anything else I can do for you today?”

“No. I don’t think I could afford anything else.” Counter-Guy laughed at that. Trouble smiled and turned away.

“Have a nice day, sir,” the clerk called out.

“You too,” Trouble said over his shoulder as he strolled out of the store, bell tinkling as the door swung shut behind him.

I gazed thoughtfully after him. I never would have guessed... After a few minutes I shook my head and walked back to the counter. My time off was coming to an end; I’d have to hurry if I was going to make it back to the office on time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Hendricks.”

“Mr. Marcone.” 

I seated myself and booted up my computer. The boss was real nice about letting me come in late now and then, and I appreciated it. A stray thought crossed my mind and I paused a moment. 

“Problem, Hendricks?” Marcone’s cool gaze rested on me and I turned toward him. 

“No problem, Boss.” I frowned a little. “You still looking for information on Dresden?”

“Always, Mr. Hendricks.” He smiled ever-so-slightly. “Did you see him this morning?”

“I saw him, he didn’t see me.” The reassurance in my tone was aimed at smoothing the line between the boss’s eyebrows. Run-ins with Dresden seemed to have reasonably good odds of ending with structural damage. Usually it was just a question of how much. “He was at TexChange.”

“TexChange?” One eyebrow rose.

“Yeah. Bought a physics book. Graduate level. Sounded like he’s read more than one. Maybe more than once.”

“That seems...somewhat unusual for a man with nothing more than a GED.” Marcone went still in thought.

I shrugged. “Just thought it might be worth sharing.” I turned back to my computer.

“Indeed. Thank you, Mr. Hendricks.”

“Sure, Boss.” I thought I heard him hum to himself softly, the way he does when he’s intrigued by something unexpected, before the soft sounds of typing resumed. I took a moment to hope that this wouldn’t come back to haunt me. Then I remembered that this was Chicago, and it probably would. Oh well. Chicago was still home, and we’d get through the inevitable and literally flaming fall-out somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I saw Dresden again three weeks later. This time I was at the public library. I had to be careful about when I went, because sometimes people thought I was there to conduct business; but I wanted to check into a couple of teach-yourself-German books and I wanted to get a feel for what was out there before I bought something that didn’t work for me. Languages weren’t really my thing, but I’d been considering expanding my repertoire for a while. The boss was very supportive, as usual.

I’d gotten a little turned around in the stacks and missed my turn. I didn’t realize until I was half-way down the aisle and I heard the murmur of voices ahead of me. Ordinarily I would have just back-tracked, but I thought I recognized one of them. Once again, I found myself creeping forward and peering around shelving. And once again I found Dresden. 

He was seated with the oldest Carpenter kid. She’s tall, though not as tall as he is, and her hair is almost never the same shade as her eyebrows. Today was no exception. Bright pink looked okay on her, but I kind of liked the soft blonde better. Not that my opinion mattered.

“I don’t get it,” she complained, leaning back in her chair and huffing. “You didn’t graduate. I don’t see why I have to.”

Dresden gave her a long-suffering look. “Because I’m the master and you’re the apprentice? Because your parents want this for you? Trust me, Molly. It’s way easier to just take the classes.”

“Why am I going to need to know this? I mean really? When was the last time you used any of this stuff in your every day life?”

“Which stuff, exactly?”

“This, school stuff. Seriously. When you were my age—“ 

Apparently, she’d been whining for a while, because he shut her down, hard. “When I was your age, Molly, I was spending my days working on a farm. I spent my evenings studying for my GED. And I spent any free time I had after that studying magic. Like you, I was already under the Doom, but I’d been under it for a year by the time I was as old as you are now. And I’d already lost two families. I worked my ass off. Now, I know that you’ve been through some tough times recently. I get that. And I know that it can’t be easy to live at home after you’ve been away. But, stars and stones, Molly! Do you want this or not?”

She tilted her head down and peered up at him from under her bangs. “I want to be your apprentice. I want to learn magic. I just don’t understand why I have to learn this other stuff, too. It’s not like I can go to college, and I don’t see how the themes of The Things They Carried is going to make a difference to my ability to conjure fire.”

Dresden leaned back, sucked in a breath, and scrubbed his hands back over his face and through his hair. “Okay. Do you want to go to college?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I always kind of figured I would, but this whole magic thing. I mean, Dad has to work twice as hard to keep the appliances going now that I’m home and all—" she wiggled her fingers “powered up, you know. And so much of college is on computers. I just don’t see how it would work.”

“Senior Council Member Listens-to-Wind goes back to medical school every ten years or so to brush up on his knowledge and techniques. If you want it badly enough, Molly, you will find a way. You have a much more delicate touch than I do; and even I can manage to get things under control when it’s important.”

“Like when you went on that TV show?”

“Yeah, like that.” He wrinkled his nose and his tone went a little flat. “Anyway, if I can do that, I have no doubt that you are not only capable of that spell, but that you will be able to do it ten times better.”

“Yeah?” She raised her head a little.

“Absolutely. You’re going to be a very good wizard someday, Molls.” 

She flashed him a radiant smile. He smiled crookedly back at her. “Before that, though, you’re going to be a high school graduate.”

“Aw, come on, Harry!”

He raised his eyebrows at her and gave her a distinctly unimpressed look. 

“I finished my physics and math! I even did the history stuff. I just don’t see why the English is important. How is that going to help me?”

“English class fosters a certain way of thinking. Analogies, symbols, themes, those are important in poems and novels and things, but they’re important in potions and spells as well. I told you last week that all potions have eight ingredients. Why is that?”

“There’s an ingredient for each of the five senses, a base to combine them in, and one for the mind and one for the spirit.”

“Precisely. And you don’t see the importance of symbols and themes here?”

“Okay, so I get that, but seriously, this book is lousy.”

“Yeah, that’s called high school, Grasshopper. Just think of it as practice.”

“Practice?”

“Practice. How else are you gonna get to Carnegie Hall?”

“Not funny, Boss.”

“That is why you are the apprentice. How much more homework do you have?”

“Not much. Thanks for helping me out with it.”

“Sure.”

The Carpenter kid turned back to her books for a minute. “Did you ever want to go to college?” she asked quietly.”

“I don’t have a lot of time for it.”

“But did you want to?”

“I thought about it, back when I was in high school. But my master then wasn’t really supportive of the idea. And I thought about taking some classes after I got to Chicago, but I was busy trying to get on my feet. Now, well.” He shrugged. “Somehow I don’t think the professors will believe that ghouls and vampires ate my homework.”

“Maybe not,” she wrinkled her nose. “Can you imagine their face, though?” 

He grinned, and I crept backwards a few steps before I glanced down at the scrap of paper in my hand and re-oriented myself. 

I never would have guessed that Dresden was the sort to help a kid with her homework. I wouldn’t have thought he appreciated it. I could sympathize with him a little. It wasn’t easy to be a non-traditional student. It would be harder if you couldn’t even take the basic classes on-line. I also hadn’t known that his trouble-magnet tendencies had started so early. Mr. Marcone might have. He had made it a point to know about the wizard after all. Still though. It didn’t make it any easier to be called Cujo, but I could admit that I’d underestimated the wizard. And I wondered if he liked philosophy.

**Author's Note:**

> As you no doubt suspected, I do not own these characters. I do thank their creator, Jim Butcher, for giving us such interesting people and such a very entertaining world to keep them in. Further, my humble thanks to you, dear reader, for indulging me by reading this bit of fluff.


End file.
